Dancing Light, Flickering Shadows
by Senka Hitomi
Summary: Drabble series for ShikaIno month 2013. Inspired by the OTP Boot Camp Challenge on the Anime and Manga Fanfiction Challenges Forum. Prompt 7 - "Sometimes, I catch myself thinking..."
1. Losing Track

_1. circle_

* * *

"I'm following you, you know."

The reply Ino received was little more than a growl.

"Well, you don't have to get all huffy about it. I'm just saying..."

The pineapple head snapped back around for an instant, no doubt about to quip out some biting remark. But seeing the pair of wicked green eyes staring at him out of a smirking face, Shikamaru thought better of it.

"Troublesome."

"What was that?" She leaned forward over his shoulder, straining to hear. Strands of blonde hair fell across his collar, tickling the skin – a sensation that was irritatingly difficult to ignore. He frowned.

"Didn't say anything." He muttered, extracting himself from his teammate as he trudged forward through the brush.

She shrugged.

"Well, whenever you're ready to stop circling around the subject, I'll be waiting." Her sing-song tone echoed in his ears, and he resisted the urge to sigh.

She could poke and prod all she wanted to – he was not going to budge on this issue. After all, his pride was at stake here.

And Shikamaru Nara was _not_ about to admit that he was lost.

* * *

_A/N: 1/50 for the OTP Bootcamp Challenge on the Anime and Manga Fanfiction Challenges Forum._

_Happy September!_


	2. Zero Hour

_2. zero_

* * *

_five._

It is the frantic race toward the dying light, and alone as she is, she is afraid despite herself.

_four._

It is dawning now, etched in sharp relief. They are splitting, and she is headed to the front.

_three._

The waves make a strange counterpoint to the screams of agony. She is racing, but it may not be soon enough.

_two._

The smell of fear claws at the air. In her nostrils, the acrid stench of blood and death. But it has not touched her yet.

_one._

It is before them, the worst of fears, the worst of battles. Her fear is cold, colder every moment.

But his hand is warm, even if his smile is grim. Together, they will move forward.

_And it is zero hour._


	3. A Taste of Mint

_3. peppermint_

* * *

"Something smells like peppermint."

The way he said it, you'd have thought he was saying "Something smells like garbage," or "Smells like something died." He was lying on the side of the bed, his head facing the wall. Ino couldn't see his expression, but then again, she really didn't need to.

"Yes? And?" She moved from her spot by the window, clambering onto the bed next to him. When she propped her chin on his shoulder, he didn't even react. Up close, she could see the signs of weariness on him – the shadows beneath his eyes, the tension roped through his muscles. This mission had been more difficult than anticipated, and it showed.

He managed to move enough to direct a glare at her.

"Now it's stronger."

Her lips parted in the image of a smile.

"And?"

He lifted his free hand to swipe at his forehead.

"And it's troublesome. I don't like peppermint."

"Shame," she murmured. Leaning over his shoulder, she pressed her lips against his cheek. The scent of peppermint came away on his skin.

"You did that on purpose."

She gave him a vexing smile, a real one this time.

"Yes? And?"

Before he could answer, she had already leaned down to press her lips to his, lingering when she pulled away.

He frowned, but it was halfhearted. Beneath her fingers, she felt the muscles of his shoulder relax ever so slightly.

Shikamaru, for his part, decided that maybe peppermint wasn't quite so bad after all.


	4. The Long Waltz

_4. dance_

* * *

The first time she asks him, he acts like he doesn't hear her.

"Oh, c'mon, Shika…" Her pudgy fingers, poking at his side, prove less persuasive than the grating whine of her five-year-old voice. Perhaps, he thinks, if he just agrees now, she will let him nap later.

Soon enough, he is up on his feet, and she is coaching him through it, swaying in the imitation of what she has seen others do, her tiny feet stepping with balanced precision. He is slow in his movements, shuffling through the steps with the same lazy approach he takes to everything. Within a few moments, she is exasperated, and with an exaggerated sigh, leaves. She didn't want to dance with him anyway.

Shikamaru is happy enough to return to his nap.

* * *

The next time she asks him, she doesn't expect him to answer.

True to form, he shrugs it off as "too troublesome," even if it is her birthday. She punches his arm and calls him an idiot, and hopes her overdramatic display is enough to ward off any suspicions that she might actually be hurt by his refusal.

Besides, they are eleven now, and she is beginning to tire of him anyway. She is blossoming into a beautiful young woman, and she doesn't have time for childhood friends, particularly a lazy, messy-haired layabout. Instead, she thinks about Sasuke, and asking him to dance, and the thought makes her laugh. Wouldn't _that _show Sakura!

Still, sometimes Ino wishes she was five again, and that a few desperate pleas for a dance would mean something to the idle boy snoring in the grass.

* * *

The next time she asks him, it does not start as a dance.

She's known about the injury for the last hour, but she can't bring herself to tell him. Asuma-sensei and Choji have already gone ahead, scouting out the route, leaving the two of them alone. She tries to hide it, but the pace is slowing noticeably. When he sees her wince, he makes her stop.

She is fourteen and headstrong, and she tries to tell him she doesn't need any help, but the leg fails her at exactly the wrong moment. She goes pitching forward, and there he is, catching her, like he always seems to do lately. When he lifts her back to her feet, she is winded, clutching his shoulders for support. When, moments later, she grins and teases him about feeling like they are five years old again, she is surprised to see him hesitate for a moment.

For the first time in years, Shikamaru realizes he wouldn't mind a dance with her.

* * *

The first time he asks her, she doesn't hear him.

The wedding of the Hokage to the Hyuuga heir is not something any of them ever expected to be seeing. The event is tinted with a strange sort of melancholy – ghosts are dancing among them. When he leans over and takes her hand, she almost thinks she must have died somewhere back there on the battlefield, because such a thing is more likely than her stoic teammate ever doing something so strange.

It does not feel natural. With his injured knee and her distinct lack of rhythm, they are a spectacle. Almost immediately, she has devolved into giggles and he is complaining, but it doesn't seem to matter. When the song is finished, neither of them moves. Strange as it feels, they will learn soon enough.

After all, in some ways, Ino has been dancing with Shikamaru all her life.

* * *

_A/N: I'm not even going to pretend I don't really like the way this one turned out, because I do. Hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!_


	5. Across the Skies

_5. mythology_

* * *

_A/N: Set following the destruction of Konoha by Pein. Based on the Japanese legend of the star lovers._

* * *

Every year, she dragged him to the Festival of Tanabata.

She would take him by the hand as they wound through the crowded streets, and she would recount her favorite story – that of the star-lovers. It was said, she told him, that once there were two lovers, one the daughter of a god, the other a mere herder, who fell so deeply in love that they forgot everything but one another. The girl's father became so angry at their neglect that he confined them to opposite sides of the great Celestial River, forced forever to be apart. But once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, a bridge formed over the river, and the lovers were reunited once more.

After a while, he had heard the story so many times, he could practically mouth the words along with her. He had almost memorized the lines of her lips as they poured out the familiar lines, ending with a plea for clear skies. When she hung her poem out in the wind, he almost smiled.

She found him that day, the seventh day of the seventh month, standing amidst the rubble of what had once been the Hokage's office. With wordless understanding, she drew him away.

They walked far out, farther still until the ruins of the village were past and it was only trees, and moonlight dappling through the leaves. They lay on the hill, and she told him the story – it had always been her favorite – of the lovers separated by the vastness of space, bound every day to their obligations; every day but this one.

_And beneath the brilliance of the night sky, for once free, Tanabata and Hikoboshi are reunited once again_.


	6. A Matter of Can or Can't

_6. battleground_

* * *

The loss is a knife burrowing into her ribs, but she cannot stop breathing. She has duties now, and a soldier cannot slow.

_It's not a matter of can or can't, I'm doing it!_

The loss is a spindle in her chest, but she cannot pause to cry. Even as he withers, she cannot let herself be given over to sorrow, because even now, she is needed.

_Yes, I can._

This war has pushed to her limits, left her hollow, until she thinks her head might explode from the pressure. But, here, on this field inundated with blood, this is where she will prove that she is the person they knew her to be. Here, on the precipice of the world's end.

* * *

_A/N: Because I'd rather write an Ino-empowerment drabble than try to make sense of the rest of the mess that was 647._


	7. Minutes to Midnight

_7. "Sometimes, I catch myself thinking..."_

* * *

It is three minutes to midnight, the hour that signals the subtle change, when his day becomes hers, the brief moment when they almost touch.

"Sometimes I catch myself thinking…" she begins.

He catches himself thinking more often than he can say.

"Sometimes I catch myself thinking about what would have happened, if circumstances had been different. If we hadn't been born when we were, if our families hadn't been so close…

"Sometimes I catch myself thinking we wouldn't have even known one another."

Sometimes he catches himself thinking the very same thing. That if their fathers hadn't been teammates, that the bossy, Sasuke-crazy, appearance-conscious Yamanaka beauty would never have even given him a second thought. That if they hadn't been born just a day apart, he, the lazy genius, would never have spent a spare moment on the brash, loud girl who loved flowers.

But sometimes he catches himself thinking that he would always have noticed her, the girl with the bright, perceptive eyes, the girl with the staggering talent for knowing the content of innermost thoughts, the girl who would protect her teammates with her dying breath. The girl he has caught a thousand times, and would catch a thousand times over again. The woman who is so blindingly bright, he cannot imagine how he wouldn't have noticed her.

"Sometimes…" She smiles. "I catch myself thinking that I can't imagine that world."

It is a minute to midnight.

And sometimes, he catches himself thinking that there can be no other ending to their story.

* * *

_A/N: In honor of Shikamaru's birthday._


End file.
